Zutara Week 2012
by redpinkandwhite
Summary: My contribution to Zutara Week! Plenty of romance, drama, truth, and tears inside.
1. Serendipity

Banners decorated the room in all manner of maroon and sun-yellow, stitched with intricate landscapes made fresh that day by some of the best embroiderers in all of the world. Some of the thread even had bits of real gold in it. It wasn't something that the coffers of the Fire Lord could really afford, but Iroh had managed to finagle enough out of it without completely depleting the supply.

Works of art made from each of the four elements dotted the floor. Ice and water shows spouted, earth sculptures posed, and fire danced to an unknown beat throughout the room. The Avatar had even managed to bottle up something like a perpetually-spinning tornado inside of a glass jar so all four elements were present.

Aang—not the Avatar. He still had to work on that. Aang.

A table groaning with food from all four nations was settled at the edge of the room, though Iroh had already served dinner before the dance had begun. The only people at the nearly-empty table were Suki, who occasionally glanced over at Zuko with a slightly bored but happy expression, and Sokka, who continuously grabbed and ate food, only breaking to pull Suki out onto the dance floor.

Toph was somewhere on the side of the dance floor; he swore he could see small crests of Earth rise and fall between the crowd. She seemed to be drinking some kind of alcoholic beverage and laughing with a group of sailors. All he knew definitely was that she was avoiding the dance floor. He would have to step in and fix that.

Zuko had seen his girlfriend and Ty Lee fold into the crowd with drinks in hand. He worried at first—he knew something would happen to Mai if he wasn't there to protect her—but he soon realized that Mai was old enough to handle herself, so he let her go. She deserved her share of play after her immense help with his Fire Lord duties. He didn't know what he would do without a Fire Lady.

A flash of red on the floor caught his eye and halted his thoughts. He furtively glanced around, making sure no one else had seen it. Then, he pounced.

It was a red packet that was traditionally given out on every new year. The red symbolized good luck in the coming year, which was only enhanced by the golden coins sitting inside. And, as he unfolded it and opened the flap, he realized just how much sat in it. That much gold could by a priceless piece of jewelry from the Fire Lord's own vault. A one-of-a-kind, historical piece. His eyebrows raised. Whoever had lost this must be missing it.

So, the Fire Lord searched. He even sent some of his friends and dignitaries on a mission to see if anyone was missing a red packet. Everyone turned up with negative reports.

He stared at the packet in his hand, wondering what to do with it. No one wanted it, no one missed it, and there was a lot of money. Though he didn't need it, he did find this money. Maybe the spirits were trying to tell him something?

Maybe Iroh planted it. Yes. Iroh stole more money out of the coffers to strategically place this pocket right in his line of sight. It seems like something his Uncle would do to him. Was it a trial? Had he failed?

Zuko snorted at himself, then silently cursed his Uncle. Why did he do things like this?

Zuko stowed the packet into his pocket, determined to forget it until someone came to claim it. He wasn't going to spend it. He wasn't going to think about it. It was just going to rest in his pocket. And sit. And wait for its owner to come claim it.

* * *

Once Zuko weaved his way through his friends, sticking true to his promise with Toph, and talked as much as he was going to tonight, he decided to check out a silent auction that Uncle had arranged. All of the proceeds from the items would be going to the still-newborn Earth Kingdom tribes that had yet to finish rebuilding. They would also be going to war reconstruction efforts here in the Fire Nation.

Zuko walked along the table, glancing at the objects set out. Many pieces of artwork sitting out on the floor were being sold for the cause, but other, smaller pieces equal in quality and beauty sat on the table. One particular painting, made by a waterbender, stuck out to him. On the little description piece it explained that the artist had created it by combining water and paint made with his own hands. Most of the flowers that were ground to make the paste were imported from the Earth Kingdom, and a few things, like the Fire Lily, from the Fire Nation. Then, he would mix the flowers into the paint, using a special Water Tribe tradition of a 20 day setting period. Water would then be added to the paint to keep a thick texture, but the colors would blur together far better than any other paint that anyone had seen.

In the picture, a blue mountain, coated with a thin layer of snow and ice, broke through the crust of the Earth and shadowed the sun behind it. The sun, however, was already setting, so the orange tones surrounded the blue, creating a beautiful contrast between the two. And the brush strokes—water strokes—were so artistically moved to give the mountain strength, while still giving the feeling like it was forever moving and flowing.

Something about the painting entranced Zuko. He stared at it, the coins in his pocket burning a hole into his skin. He could imagine it placed inside of his own bedroom, hanging between his bed and his window. The coins in his pocket were more than enough to pay for the extravagantly priced painting. He would just have to write down his name and the bid, and that painting would sit in his bedroom.

As he picked up the brush to begin to sign, something very sparkly caught him from the corner of his eye. A necklace with gigantic ocean-blue gems hanging heavily off of the silver chain rested magnificently on the red table-cloth. The largest diamond, centered as a pendant, was surrounded by silver molded into a snowflake shape. Smaller, but still prominent red rubies set an equal distance between each of the blue gems, creating a fire and ice pattern in the necklace.

This one hit him harder with familiarity. It took him a few moments to realize that it reminded him of Katara. He could imagine it sitting on her neck, elongating her already long and graceful neck. It represented her life that was in the Fire Nation—it was largely a diamond, like the blue clothes that she wore here, while still holding a hint of the ruby in the style of the clothes. But, the center blue stone with the snowflakes around it was her home. How she would never be able to leave that part of her behind, no matter how she may try to eradicate it. It would always be as constant to her as her mother's necklace was around her neck.

Suddenly, the coins weren't burning his skin. Zuko reassuringly patted the outside of his robes, then quickly picked up the pen. This was vastly more expensive, but the coins in the pocket still barely covered it. One more bid, and he might not get it. But this was something that he had to have. Not even the painting would console him.

* * *

She sighed heavily, running her hand over her elegantly pulled up hair. The noise of the party was so loud—no music had truly started again. Not since the auctions started. Something—something about seeing priceless pieces of art that her people had made being sold off to the highest bidder here in the Fire Nation made her sick and disgusted. Fat, pompous old men who didn't care if families back in the South Pole went starving for the whole of the war. They continued to sit on their money, and would bid it off to help out the people. She knew Iroh had his heart in the right place, and that the money would get delivered to where it should go. But, seeing those hands raise, women crawling all over the men, waiting for money to be tossed at them, then touching the art that her people had worked so hard on-

She pulled her blue furred shawl closer to herself. The night was hot—humid was more like it—and even she was having a hard time with underarm stains. But the emotions churning inside of her stomach made her forget her environment. She would pull the shawl closer to herself if she wanted to.

Turtleducklings, curious at the figure sitting just outside of their pond, ducked their heads out from behind a reed. She glanced curiously at them, smiling. The ducks quickly shot back behind it. Maybe they were scared of her. Like the people in the other room rightly should be.

But, the ducks had no reason to be afraid of her. She wasn't a mean person.

"Come here," she whispered, making her voice as smooth as the pond and soft as the moonlight. Her mocha fingers reached out to them. "Come on out. Don't be shy. I won't be mean to you. It's those nasty Fire Nation men that I can't stand." The ducks peeked their heads out again, then slowly paddled their way to her hand. "Yeah, see? I'm not gonna hurt you. I can't promise that the Fire Nation won't, but I will. I will never hurt you."

"Still prejudiced?" The voice made her jump, and a turtleduck was almost smashed as Katara stood up as quickly as possible, landing a foot in the pond. The turtleduck reprimanded her with a short nip at her heel, which made her yelp. She grabbed at the sensitive part of her skin, then dropped to the bank. The stranger, who wasn't a stranger at all, sat down beside her.

"I am not prejudiced," she announced loudly, rubbing her heel. "You were there. You saw how they acted. They couldn't wait to get their greasy hands on any kind of painting from the Water Tribe. They wouldn't have been nearly as willing if they were still in the middle of the war. They only think about themselves."

He chuckled, the deep bass of his voice making tingling shivers roll down her back.

"So, Sifu Fire Lord. If you are so high and mighty, why aren't you out entertaining those... pigs?" She spat in the direction of the men.

"I despise the men as much as you do, but I hardly call them pigs." The seriousness in his voice echoed through the garden. All of the peace and tranquility she tried to shroud herself with was shattered. "They are the driving force of our country. Without the money, we would literally be run into the ground. They are important, Katara, but they—"

"You Fire Nation are all just selfish!" The turtleducks were scared back behind the reeds. Zuko flinched, but stayed strong. This only enraged her more. "You are always so passionate about everything that has to do with your nation! Don't you see what those horrible, gross, disgusting men are doing to women and my country out there! They are using a priceless Water Tribe painting like it is a napkin! You don't care about morals, about love, about family. All you care about is the next time you can dominate over someone!"

She was panting with the exertion—her throat hurt just to breathe.

"And you think that your tribe is perfect?" He replied in kind, standing in dominance. "Ever since the war has ended, I have heard nothing about reconstruction or aid for the other countries! At least those men you call pigs are willing to dig into their pockets and give to other countries. You call us elitists."

Her jaw dropped. Did he just accuse her tribe of being poor? Oh, was he going to get it.

"Excuse me, Mr. Right. While your country was reaping the benefits of a hundred year-long war, selling off crops at extremely inflationary rates to try and get money from everyone that they could, we were at the other end of the stick. We had no money to pay the taxes that the Fire Nation imposed on us, let alone the cost of bread because of the high price of wheat. So while your men got fat off of money and food, we starved in the North and South, having to heave and work for our own crops!"

He scoffed heavily, crossing his hands over his chest. "You thought we were sitting on a pile of money? All of the inflationary food went straight to the war effort. My own personal coffers of money is significantly reduced from what it would normally be. We had people just as poor and starving as you were. Don't act like you are justified because the 'Fire Nation starved you'. People in our own country were starving because of my own father. He turned his back on his own country. So do not accuse us of being greedy pigs!"

"But, you were." She stuck her tongue out, and sneered.

"We were not!" He huffed, a little burst of fire shooting out from underneath his foot.

"Oh, you weren't?" She tugged at the water in the pond, and gathered a few drops from the humidity in the air. "I'll bet whoever wins in a sparring match is right."

"Deal." Before he finished speaking, he threw two fists at Katara, fireballs spinning out. He took the moment to jump up, flip off his robes, and kick a few curves of flame at her.

Katara easily deflected the weak attacks and parried with her own. Shards of ice flew at his throat, which he singed down to nothing but steam. Katara quickly gathered that water while creating a shield to block his next kicking attack.

Neither gained the upper hand as they continued to fight. Their passion and anger held their fatigue in check, and stretched the fight out farther than it should have gone. Both suffered bruises and cuts, but nothing life-altering. Evenly matched, they fought until they were reduced to nothing but panting, crumbled forms on the ground. Both of them were too tired for any more anger or fighting.

It was time for him to make his move.

He pulled out the necklace from his pocket, unable to speak because he had to catch his breath. So, he held it out to her.

Her eyes widened at the beautiful necklace.

"Is—is this for me?" She reached out for it, her hand turning fluid as her fingers brushed the soft metal. He couldn't help but notice that the diamonds weren't quite as bright as her eyes.

"Yes. It—it reminded me of you." The necklace seemed to keep her in a trance. She held it out in front of her face, both hands cradling the precious metals. She stared at it with a deep passion, something so unfathomable for him. He could only imagine that the immense love he had for firebending might compare. Tears of happiness, he assumed, sprung to her eyes.

"Zuko. This is—this is so—" She fumbled with the clasp, tears sliding down her cheeks and blurring her vision. Zuko quickly took over and unhooked it. He placed it across her neck, then fastened it. Her beautiful hand came to rest against the necklace, and played with it much like she would touch her mother's necklace. "How could you afford something like this? I know the coffers of the Fire Lord aren't exactly doing well."

The romantic moment screeched to a halt. Of course. Katara would want to mention something like price. He would keep her happy, though, and entertain her question.

"Yes, I know the coffers aren't doing well." He gingerly touched the necklace, and the skin beneath. He could feel her straighten, and the nodes of her skin raise. Why didn't he buy her necklaces more often? "I received a great gift. A red pouch I found on the ground. It was filled with an inexplicable amount of money." Still behind her, he ran his hands down the back of her arms, feeling the electric charge dart between them.

"Did you try to find the owner?" She asked, voice soft as the metal. "I'm sure that she is missing her money right now."

He paused in his motions to look questioningly at her. "Do you know who's money it is?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." She reached back behind her to rest her hand on his face, and leaned back into his lap. Her back pressed up against his chest. "It was mine."

This time, it was he to stop the romantic moment. He jolted slightly, though Katara didn't seem to mind. He relaxed when he realized what he had done. "It was your money? Why didn't you try to claim it? You know how much was in there! It was a fortune."

Katara idly picked a piece of grass, opting to run it up and down his pale arm. She was pretending it wasn't a big matter. "Aang gave it to me."

Oh. That explained everything. But, she continued on anyway. "Ever since we broke up—I mean, I broke up with him—he's been trying to shower me with gifts to win my love." She tossed the grass away, and preferred to use her hand instead. "It started with his small, but still expensive gifts he would give me on my birthday. More spirit water, jewelry, paintings. Whatever caught his eyes that day. The first few days, I couldn't bring myself to throw away the gifts. Most of them were priceless. So, I would give them away. Charities would take them and sell them for extravagant amounts to help serve the poor. Toph and Sokka got more than they could ever hope for." She snorted once at this. He couldn't help but chuckle as well. "Now, I just throw it away. You saw what I did with that red packet. Thousands, maybe, of gold coins stuffed into a red pouch. I didn't care to count." She turned to look up at him, her hand stopping to rub the side of his face. "At least you found it. And, I love what you did with it." She beamed up at him. He was happy to stay in this moment for the rest of his life.

* * *

A/N: I don't own Avatar, or any of the characters.


	2. Momentous

It would be momentous—the plan of the century. The Hundred Years' War would be a miniscule speck compared to this.

Her mind couldn't even wrap around the idea.

Her fingers danced nervously over the edge of her cup. A plate of elegant food sat before her, invitingly warm and completely tasteless. She would give up the ability to waterbend for any comforting Water Tribe food right now, though she was absolutely sure she would just throw it back up. Her stomach was churning.

"Katara, is there something wrong? You look really pale," Zuko whispered. His steaming hands encased her frigid, clammy ones. Those two opposites—his warm hands and her cold ones—made the normally romantic affection so out-of-place. She was so scared, so worried about what was coming, she couldn't let herself get close to him. If she got too close to Zuko, she wouldn't be able to do it. It would ruin her plan.

Was she even strong enough to do this? No, she wasn't. She would be leaving a lot of good things devastated behind her. She couldn't even think of her brother's reaction. Banished from the Fire Nation, her family and friends forever angry or confused.

"No," she whispered, forcing her tone to stay even and pasting a smile on her face. "I'm perfectly fine." She turned away from their hands and looked at him. There was no way she could do it if those golden eyes looked up at her with such saddened distress. The biting metal in her pocket felt like lead.

Her brother's voice yanked her from her thoughts. "No, Katara." Sokka chomped into the cooked leg of some animal; Suki heaved a sigh next to him. "Something is wrong!"

"Don't interrupt their conversation, Sokka." Suki delivered a solid slap onto the back of his head.

"Ow, Suki! What was that for?" Sokka dropped his meat to rub the back of his head. Katara just noticed that Toph and Aang rested across from her brother, both falling into an eerie silence. Iroh sat between Sokka and Zuko, chuckling into his teacup but remaining silent. "My sister is acting really strangely." Sokka picked up the meat and wagged it in Katara's face. "You are doing something, Katara. Tell us what it is!"

"I will not!" Katara huffed, pushing away the offending leg. "And, nothing is going on. It's none of your business, Sokka!" That seemed a little more normal, right? She crossed her arms over her chest for good measure.

Suki forcibly dragged him from the table out into the hallway and loudly began to chastise him. The two twelve-year-olds started their own private discussion, accompanied intermittently with giggles between one another. Zuko and Iroh, seeing a lull in the conversation, began to heatedly (or, at least, as heatedly as the Dragon of the West would permit) debate over something concerning the country. Zuko hand was still firmly lodged into her's.

If she went through with this, would they even be able to face one another at a dinner table? Could they converse as easily as they are now? She knew she could lose Aang as a friend, and she would definitely lose Zuko. What would the rest of her friends and family think?

The discussion on her guilty behavior seemed to drop and light-hearted conversation continued. Sokka and Suki were quick to return to the table, back in a flash. She did her best to be the happy, unassuming Katara, but even she could feel her fake smile.

It would happen tonight.

* * *

She knocked on the office door. The sound echoed through the empty halls like the last rings of the funeral bell. It would happen now. Right now. The reassuring metal so cold and sharp at the dinner table rested warmly against her stomach, concealed in her dress.

"Come in." Zuko's voice rang through the office. The colossal oaken doors seemed so much bigger, so heavier, than they were before. She didn't even know if she could open the doors by herself. Eventually, they moved.

She slunk into the room, her hand resting against the metal. It seemed warmer now, like it was radiating comfort. She smiled to herself.

"Hey, Zuko." She placed a tray of cookies down on a table in front of his desk. "Toph got a little crazy and wanted cookies for dessert. She insisted, so I thought you might want some." Her eyes slanted to discreetly count guards. Five. Two by the door. Perfect.

She looked at the statue of Zuko before her, hunched over the papers on his desk. "Could—could—do you mind if you called off your guards?" She tried to remain calm, though she sounded shaky. Her hands would not stop touching the metal, so she forcibly clutched them together in front of herself. That did not stop them from vibrating, though. Did he notice?

Once the last guard had left, Katara finally looked at the statue of a man. She could see his haggard appearance—hair mussed, chin unshaven, bags under his eyes—like he was worn thin and about to fall asleep in his chair. He didn't look any better at dinner, either. Maybe it was better that she do this?

She approached the large desk—the only thing sitting between the two of them. Adrenaline pushed her forward, keeping her focused and on-task. Her hands tingled with the rush. She could do this. She would do this.

"Zuko?" He grunted in response, continuing to work. "I didn't want the guards out of the room so I could watch you work." Her hand reached into her pocket, pulling out the metal. He was still so naively unaware of what she was holding. Consumed by his work. It was now or never. Do or die. Right to his heart when he least expects it.

Zuko finally set down his brush and looked up expectantly. What she was holding, however, made him petrified. She eagerly consumed all of the emotions that played across his face—happiness, anger, frustration, contentment—before landing on confusion.

She held out a necklace, the metal pendant hand-carved, to him. "Zuko. Will you marry me?"

* * *

Did you see that coming? Yes, no? Reply and tell me what you thought! XD

I do not own Zuko or Katara. All property of Bryke.


	3. Transcend

Katara had always known that she was the greatest. Convinced from a young age that she would do something amazing, her mother took her under her wing and taught her everything that she knew. Though it wasn't much, Katara flourished under the tutelage. Her mother nicknamed her 'master waterbender' and called her thats whenever they were alone. Hakoda and Sokka didn't exactly approve of what was going on, though they didn't know all of the details. And, that was exactly how Katara wanted it.

Looking in hindsight, she wondered what she could have done with a real master. Would the world have been rid of the Hundred Years' War before the Avatar was found? Could she have saved her people—and her father—from the clutches of the Fire Nation with no more of her peoples' blood spilled?

She would never know.

* * *

Finding and joining Aang on his quest was natural. It wasn't even a question of if she wanted to go. Something, some small fiber in her being, told her that she was destined for great things. And finding Aang was her catalyst. She knew that traveling around the world, meeting new people, seeing new places, would also help broaden her horizons. She could learn new bending tricks, learn from masters, anything that she could find to better herself. If she said that this trip wasn't at least partly selfish, that she was only doing it to help out Aang, she was kidding herself. Her brother and Aang were easily fooled—one already trusted her, and the other was convinced he was in love with her. And they didn't care to dig deeper. Her lies went untested, and she practiced whenever she could.

* * *

The waterbending scroll was the next step. When her eyes glanced over the symbol of her nation in that rack of scrolls, and she realized what it could stand for, what lay hidden inside, something—her Inner Katara, she called it—whispered seductively in her ear. _What kind of undiscovered keys lay in the scroll? Could one of them unlock your potential? _

That thought, so appealing, so convincing, drove her to the brink. Stealing was still immoral, pirates or not. But the call of the scroll was tempting. She reached out her fingers to gently touch the flaking paper. It felt as soft as her dreams.

_You saw what Aang did today. He picked up on a move in a few seconds that you took days to master. You can be that good. Just take the scroll. Prove yourself._

It was too easy for her small hands to slide the scroll into her awaiting pack.

* * *

Her dreams came to a screaming halt when his ropes chafed her wrists. She wriggled against the tree, trying to escape her chains, but he was so much stronger than her. So much better. Better than Katara. Before she had met him, she thought a better person—or bender—would be impossible to find. It seems that she was wrong—on both counts.

That would be the first time that they met. When she first realized that there might be someone better than she was. It was a shocking discovery—she never thought that anyone could match her or beat her. But, that only pushed her to work harder. She would defeat him. It would mean more practice and more time, but if she could beat him one day, all of the blood and sweat would be worth it.

* * *

The next time that they met, they were at the Northern Water Tribe. Katara had proven herself to the world once again when she fought against the sexism in her tribe—and won. She was the first woman in one of these fighting classes. Just another great thing about her.

She trained. Got better. She and Aang were about even now. If she was alone, she would even tell herself that she was better. That she could only go up from here, and Aang was stuck learning the other elements. It was a handicap.

At that moment, when she finally faced up to him after months of training, seeing that face that haunted her at night, the victorious face that always dominated her in her dreams, she felt she was ready. Training with a master waterbender and the Avatar at the same time? Who could compete with that?

Even with the determination to keep him away from Aang, even though she knew the terrain slightly better, even with the moon and pools of water on her side, she fell. She fell far, and she fell hard. She didn't even see the ground as she hit it. And that made her furious.

* * *

Throughout their trip of the Earth Kingdom, Katara thought about him. Strategy, moves, mistakes. What she can do next time to ensure he would be defeated. Sleep wasn't a top priority when you were trying to be the best. She also anticipated their next meeting. Would it be in Ba Sing Se? Or would it be earlier? Would she see him first, or would he see her first? What would she do in those situations?

She could only think like this when she was alone. These all-consuming thoughts could not be shared with her teammates. Especially with her brother and Aang. She knew that she did want to protect Aang—he was the final hope in their world to end the war for the good. The better. That was her major drive in going on the trip. And she wanted to make sure that Aang and Sokka shared that same idea. If they weren't driven under the same force—under that same idea—she was sure the foundation of their group would crumble. But, she also wanted to better herself. Accomplish her own goals while she set on this life-changing adventure, not just concentrate solely on Aang. So, vanquishing him for the first time, to see his eyes open and read the shock written on his face as she defeated him, that was what she wanted to see. As Aang helped rid the world of the evil Fire Nation dictator, she would accomplish her own destiny and win against him.

* * *

It happened underneath Ba Sing Se. Sort of.

They sat in the crystal catacombs, waiting for something. Then, it all came out. She didn't mean it to—he was her enemy after all. The face of her opponent. But, it just happened. There was no way she could explain why she had trusted him at that moment. Maybe she thought she could trust him? Maybe she could see the good in him? Maybe she realized he was as human as she was? Or was it all three?

All she knew was that she ended up trusting him—her enemy, the person to beat—and told him more than she had ever told Aang or Sokka.

Then, she did the craziest thing of all. She almost gave up her water to him. The scar on the side of his face—a mark that had always reminded her of the enemy—could have been healed. He wouldn't have to carry that memory anymore. If only they had gotten a little closer, if she would have just uncorked it, instead of wasting time feeling the burnt flesh beneath her sensitive fingertips, feeling the zing shoot down her arm and straight to her brain, thinking about something other than defeating him.

In the end, she was glad she didn't use it on his scar. He turned his back on her. Outside of the crystal caves, reality flooded back to both of them. She realized he was the person to beat, and he seemed to think the same. He chose the opposite side—the side of the enemy. She guessed it was a lot like cats and dogs. They were always enemies, no matter what side they were on.

She couldn't help but feel the pain of his betrayal.

* * *

If it was possible, the next time that they met up was even worse.

After stopping the assassin that he, their enemy, had sent after them, he came begging on hands and knees to be accepted to their group. At first, Katara was smugly happy. Seeing him have to beg and plead to anything boosted her ego probably more than it should have.

But, as Aang, Sokka, and Toph all took his—the enemy's—side, she realized just how alone and hurt she was. Ever since their escapade in Ba Sing Se, Katara had felt this traitorous hole in her heart. An emptiness where his 'acquaintance'-ship used to be. She refused to call him a friend (though her heart was screaming that he was more than one).

When he was finally accepted into their group, which had Inner Katara screaming in fury (_He is not on our side! He's the enemy!_), the real Katara, her heart, told her that she should eventually give him a second chance. For now, she was going to give him hell until she determined he had suffered enough. Be it twenty years from now or ten days, it didn't matter. It would be her decision.

For the first time in her life, she tried to quiet her Inner Katara, deciding her heart was right.

* * *

The blue lightning flashed before her, dazzling and awe-inspiring. If she were in any other situation, if Azula's long, pointed fingers weren't pointing straight at her, if Zuko wasn't running straight into the path of the lightning, she was sure she would like it. However, circumstances being as they were, she panicked.

Him, her new-found friend after their 'field trip', a companion who accepted her bloodbending ability, another person who just understood her, jumped out in front of the lightning. She saw him move his arms, like—like he was trying to bend the lightning. Bend it away from her? Or just move it? She couldn't tell. And, everything was happening so quickly, but so slowly, she didn't understand what was going on.

Then, he hit the ground. She could see final loops of electricity jerk parts of his body, making him move as if a puppet-master were controlling only parts of his body. Then, he went finally and eerily still.

She could feel tears dripping down her cheeks, though she never recalled crying. Her hands, moving of their own accord, reached out to him, and her voice called out his name.

Never once did her Inner Katara speak.

* * *

She crashed into him, their fire and water combining to create nothing but steam. That didn't stop her, though. She collected the particles of water still hanging in the air and turned them into a rain of sharp icicles. Then, as quickly as she could, she darted a waterwhip out behind his foot, then yanked as hard as she could. Firebenders relied on their stance to help control their power. Without it, he was going to have a hard time winning.

Zuko, focused on the raining icicles, couldn't keep his balance. He wavered slightly, so Katara took the chance to bring her waterwhip back into her hand, and froze it into a dagger of ice. She leaped on top of him as he crumbled to the floor.

She held the ice against his bruised neck, a small trail of red falling down her sliced forehead. Her knees pinned down his legs, their sweat making skin slick. They both panted heavily, blue eyes clashing with yellow.

"I won." She smiled triumphantly, digging in the ice just a little deeper to give him a small cut, then turned it back into water. "I finally won against you, Zuko!" She did a little happy dance in her mind, but only stood and offered him a hand up in reality.

_Finally!_ Inner Katara was back. _I defeated him. I won!_

"Yeah, I guess you did." She could hear the smirk in his voice like he knew something she didn't. Her smile of victory fell, and she glared at him. Was it all a scam? Ooh, that riled her up. Enough to give her more fight.

"If you planned this, Fire Lord, I will push you onto your royal butt and defeat you again." She pressed her finger against his chest threateningly. "Don't even try it."

However, Inner Katara was pleased, fake or not. So, a smile broke out across her face while Zuko grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his chest. She pulled him into a hug, and beamed up at him. Her inner Katara, her drive to be the best of the best, couldn't have predicted that the man she had so hated, the enemy she wanted to beat, would, eventually, become the love of her life. She was glad that she had stopped listening to her, even if for only a second. Or she wouldn't be in his arms.

That was the last time Inner Katara had spoken.

* * *

A/N: I really have nothing else to say on this, too. It's just been a wandering idea that floated through my mind. Though, Selfish Katara is a very interesting topic, since she's mostly selfless. (Oh, and if you are wondering, she does heal him after their fight. I just hadn't gotten to that part yet.)

Enjoy! And review!

I don't own Zuko or Katara.


	4. Whimsical

Zuko and Katara lounged in the living room, content to be tangled on the couch. They had just gone out on a long group date so they were happy with stretching out their sore muscles and letting their tired feet rest. Both of them had chattered up their own storm, so talking wasn't much of a priority.

For now, holding each other close like they might die if they let go suited both of them perfectly fine.

After a few minutes of blissful mindlessness, she noticed one thing. Zuko's apartment was a mess. Dirty clothes and bowls were spread across the dark coffee table, which stood in front of a dusty, ancient television screen. A couch just as used as the television was layered with millions of pillows, blankets, and various other articles of clothing, probably to hide the rips and stains Katara knew were there. That, the (ex-)bachelor couch, sat behind the table. Random sports pieces, including but not limited to hockey sticks, soccer balls, Frisbees, lacrosse sticks, and a cricket paddle, were spread all over the cream carpet. They were sitting close to the couch in the cream, soft chair that Katara brought in when she moved. One wall of windows stretched to their left, continuing on into the completely overflowing kitchen. Once Katara had the time, she would take care of that mess. And organize.

Sometimes she wondered if it was a good idea to become a lawyer if she would become addicted to organization.

She glanced out of the windows, taking inventory of the deck outside. Nothing she couldn't handle. A couple of potted plants and some old, rusting lawn chairs. Simple. Like a divorce case.

She chuckled slightly at that, and Zuko looked at her questioningly. She waved him off, not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence, but made a mental note to tell him later. She knew he would insist.

Her blue eyes traced the shape of the roof, giving up on her quest. Now, the call of the moon hanging low in the sky was more interesting.

The darkness of the night was startling—it was a half-moon but the sky was as dark as a new moon. The stars twinkled brighter than ever, it seemed. Like thousands of glimmers that she saw nearly every day in Zuko's eyes. Whenever he looked at her.

She turned to the moon, and saw the same. A bright, happy circle of light folded into the dark black velvet of the sky. Complex scars ran intricately across the surface of the disk, but the core of the rock stays forever the same. There were those times of darkness, too, where the light was snuffed out for a week. Eventually, though, the moon would light back up again, and continue its entrancing push and pull on the water.

As if he heard her thoughts, Zuko twisted his fingers into hers, and pulled her a little closer. She turned to him, drinking in the sight, before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Zuko stared ahead unfocused, but his cheeks flushed a bright red. Katara could see him come back to Earth, and turned away from his girlfriend. She giggled, happy that she could get him embarrassed with something so small as a kiss and that Zuko was feeling better this week.

Last week, the moon had been new.

She snuggled in closer to him, relishing the comfortable heat that radiated from his skin. It felt so good against her own cold flesh.

A solitary rain drop fell from the sky, and plopped on the porch. Katara's ears perked at the sound. Could it be?

That was the starting sound. It transformed from a small pitter-patter to an all-or-nothing downpour.

The beautiful scent of rain—like wet pavement, plants, and humidity—flooded her senses. Ever since she had moved into Republic City, she had missed the rain. The desert environment denied her the one element that she swore pumped through her veins. But, it made moments like these as sweet as chocolate—another thing she just had to live without.

She took a deep breath and let it take her over.

Without a word, she jumped up from the chair and tugged on Zuko's hand. She eagerly pointed to the rain outside, then pretended she was jumping in the puddles outside.

Zuko, however, stared at her like she was speaking a foreign language. He refused to stand up, no matter how hard Katara tugged, and that put a big damper on her spirits.

Finally, after trying more than three ways to communicate that she wanted to go outside and still getting nothing but a blank, confused look, she decided to pull out the big guns. She withdrew her hand from his, making sure to trace the edge of his hand as she let go. Even she could feel the tingle where Zuko's hand had been. It made her want to put his hand back into hers, but she stopped herself from doing so. She needed to be strong.

She sauntered over to the screen door, smirking when she felt Zuko's burning golden gaze follow every curve of her hips. She turned to smile at him, then motioned with one long finger for him to join her. His eyes burned with curiosity, but she saw his mouth set in a hard-set line. Fine, if he was going to play that way, she was going to have fun without him.

She burst out into the rain, stopping at first with the shocking coldness of the rain. Then, once she had grown used to it, she played. She did everything from cupping it in her hands and running down her skin—like she could bend water, she jokingly thought—to throwing it up in the air, and just running around in it. If Zuko had any yard, she would have done cartwheels and jumped in it.

Eventually, her excitement faded. Her serenity she gained from sitting in it would never fade, but her energy did. After a particularly long and strenuous jump across the deck, she decided it was enough. She plopped down onto the wood, and sat. Just sat. And felt the water rush down her skin. Something about that feeling was just so amazing. Nothing could even compare to it.

The creak of the screen door brought her attention back to reality. Zuko had decided to come out and see what she was doing, though he hesitantly stood at the edge of bliss. Katara stood up, her wet clothes dripping and dragging her down, and took his hand into hers. His hand felt even warmer now, like she was holding onto a hot coal. Hers probably felt like a block of ice.

She gently pulled on his arm, and smiled up at him. If she could have both her boyfriend—her heart—and the rain—her soul—together, then she knew she would be complete. It would be one of those moments that she would never forget.

However, Zuko seemed to have a different idea. Katara guessed, basing all that she knew on Zuko, that he would love to do the opposite. Both of them safe, inside of the house, surrounded by a fire warming them up. That would be his perfect setting. But, her's was here and now. If Zuko would wade out into the water and just hold her for a little bit, she would be happier than any other girl in the world. That was all she wanted.

She could feel her eyes grow a little softer, tried to make them a little more pleading. She gently tugged his arm this time, knowing it would remind him of a little Katara. Of the times that they used to be together when they were little—when their relationship really started.

Zuko's eyes dodged around hers, choosing to look up at the sky and ignore her. She smiled lightly, fully knowing her plan was working.

After a few more tugs, and a lot more kisses and smiles, Katara eventually coaxed him out of the safety of the house and out into the cold rain. They took it one step at a time, Katara reassuring and smiling at every move. She had just remembered the aversion Zuko and his family had for rain—that was why they moved to a desert climate. Every other time that she had tried to get him out into the water, he always refused. He told her it was because of a bad memory years ago—she attributed it to the night that he got his scar across the left side of his face. She didn't know the details about that story, but she decided that she didn't want to. Not yet. And, she hadn't even told him the story of her mother yet. They had only been dating for year, and stories like that don't come out easily. She knew that his time to speak would come, so she didn't ask. So, she took each and every step with him, making sure he was ready.

She realized that using her as a crutch forced him to swallow his pride. Maybe that was why his face was set so determinedly and emotionless, as if it wasn't affecting him as much as Katara knew it was. Though she knew he would never admit to it, she could also see the happy glint in his eyes that told her he appreciated what she was doing. She knew this was just one more step toward the healing that he needed, and she was glad she was the one helping him out.

After what seemed like hours, they finally made it to the center of the deck. Zuko was shivering and shaking as if he were in the middle of a snowstorm. His eyes screamed out to her, asking her what was going on, why he was doing this, like he was a little kid again, trapped in the middle of an unknown, scary place.

Katara had no words. So, she wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him close. Though it was a sour victory, having him in her arms and sitting out in the rain felt like—like heaven. Like she was a guardian angel sent to help him face his final fear. To finally overcome that final hurdle.

She pulled him closer and brushed a kiss on his scar.

"I love you."

* * *

A/N: Tried something just a little fluffier than the past few prompts. I don't know how well it turned out.

Review?

I don't own Zuko or Katara. They are the property of Bryke.


	5. Heartstrings

It tugged on her heart once again. A miniscule pull she could feel right in the center of her chest—where her heart was. But, this time, it wasn't a joyous tug. It hurt. Like a small needle was poking the sensitive skin of her heart. She had only ever felt this once before.

_ "Zuko!" she screamed, fixated on the body laying before her. Blood gushed out of cuts and scrapes all over his skin, staining the black pavement. His face was pale white, shockingly colorless compared to his scar. His chest slowly rose and fell, breathing life back into Katara with each of his breaths. He was still alive. He was still alive!_

_ His butter-yellow eyes, so soft, so fragile, halted her in her tracks. The sight took her breath away. Even as he lay dying on the street, mangled from a car accident, Zuko always managed to take her breath away and leave her speechless. She loved him. So much._

_ "Zuko," she whispered, softer this time. Tears sprang to her eyes, blurring her path, but she made it safely into his arms. She held on tightly, promising herself she would never let go. As long as Zuko didn't let go. As long as he didn't let go. "You're going to be okay." She gently rubbed her left cheek against his, feeling the burned skin brush her face. "Everything will be all right." The tears came down harder. "You'll make it out."_

_ "Katara," Zuko croaked, cradling his head closer to him. "You know you've always been a bad liar, right?" He chuckled lightly._

It was a communication device between the two of them. Whenever Zuko thought about her, she would feel a small, warm sun sitting in her heart. Whenever he wanted her around, she would feel an insistent tug on her chest. And, like any other self-respecting telephone, it worked the other way, too. It was the perfect way to communicate with one another without their parents knowing.

Ever since Zuko had—Zuko d—Ever since that night, her telegraph wire that connected them was silent. Dead. She swore she still had rope burns where the cord had snapped and recoiled against her heart. By now, they should have hardened into scars, but something new, like seeing a movie or going to a concert Zuko had always talked about, make it burn anew, just as bright as the first.

So, to feel that again was heavenly. After two long, torturous years, even feeling the distress call was better than being senseless. Though, she wished Zuko would just get on with it. The needle was digging deeper and deeper into her heart, and seemed it wouldn't stop until it went all the way through.

She curled up into a ball on her bed, now into college. It was only 10 at night, so most of her friends and roommates were out partying with some of the boys. Or their boyfriends.

Boyfriend. She still had dreams about him and could feel his phantom limbs caressing her. She shivered slightly, feeling his hands slide down her arms. The comforting heat of his arms slipping around her. The reassuring weight of his head resting against her shoulder. She moaned lightly, and reached back to pull him closer to her. And that was when she felt skin.

She jumped back, flipping around on her bed. Sure enough, sitting just a few inches away from her, was her boyfriend. Zuko. In the flesh and blood. He was still hovering in the same position, looking questioningly at Katara.

Their broken string hummed and vibrated happily, still connected.

"Zuko?" she asked, hoping beyond all hope that she was just dreaming. If Zuko had come back for a visit from—from the Spirit World for all she cared—he would have to go back. And she would be pissed. Visit for a few days, then leave? Unacceptable. "What are you doing here?"

He readjusted his position, falling back into his trademark scowl and leaned up against the headboard. A few new scars, no doubt from the accident, adorned his skin like badges. But, his face wasn't as white as that day; it was about normal now. All of the blood was washed off from his skin, and he changed his shirt to something more his style. It was an all black t-shirt with his favorite band's album cover dusted on it. His black hair had also stayed the same. Her hands itched to run through it again. The light from her bed-side lamp illuminated half of his face, and proved that he was, indeed, sitting on her bed.

He shrugged his shoulders as a response to her question. Then, deciding he needed to say more, or something stupid like that, he said: "I decided to come visit you."

That was it.

"You just think that you can come and visit me, Zuko?" she pressed hotly, leaning forward to get up into his face. "You think that you can just come, willy-nilly, dancing back into my life? After you died? No, that's not permissible, buddy. You have to leave. You have to leave right now. I'd rather have you in my dreams than in real life."

The meaning behind her words hit her a little too late. "No, Zuko, I-"

"All right, then." He shrugged, but she could see the ice in his eyes. She shivered. "If that's the way you want it." He turned away, already starting to fade from sight. Their connection faded, too, slowly disappearing back into the dark senselessness.

"No, Zuko, please." But, her begs fell on deaf ears. He was nearly gone before she caught his wrist. He snapped his head back to her, and immediately turned back human. The line sprung back into a solid wire. "Listen to me!"

"No, you listen to me!" he shouted, finally breaking. Katara smiled a little, glad that he was still the same old Zuko she had fallen in love with. "I have worked for two long years, laboring under the spirits, doing every single menial task that they set me with, breaking my back for years, so I could come see you again. And now you just want me to leave and throw that all away? I will not give up something like that. I know how much you love me, Katara! How can you just deny these few moments that we can have together?"

She launched herself at the boy, giggling happily as she pulled him into a hug. "I was just acting like you, Zuko, and talking before I thought." She buried her face into his shirt. "I'm so glad that you are back."

He ignored that first statement. His hands moved to wrap around her. "I'm glad to see you, too."

That night was the final night. He told her there would be no way he could see her again. So, they sat in her bed all night, talking and, when they ran out of things to talk about, just sat in each others arms. By the time that the sun had come up, Katara was fast asleep, and Zuko kissed her one last time before disappearing with the night.

But, it wasn't the end. Katara could still feel their heartstring, spanning the whole of the Earth and the Spirit World, to connect them together.. She could still feel that warm ball of sun in her heart whenever he thought about her, and could feel the insistent tug when he wanted to see her. And, she knew deep down inside, he could feel her calls, too. Though they were worlds apart, they would always be together.

She knew she would never lose him.

* * *

A/N: Is there something wrong with me? Why I can't I write anything fluffy? There always has to be some Earth-shattering SOMETHING going on.

Review, please?

I don't own Zuko or Katara.


	6. Faded

"So, what, Zuko?" She ran a hand through her hair, then clapped it against her thigh. "Why can't you talk to me? Why haven't you tried?"

He didn't reply—his eyes stayed concentrated on the papers.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Gods, what was he doing? Playing with fire. "I always feel like I am talking to myself around you. Just speak to me, Zuko."  
He took a breath and set down his pen. His eyes slid closed. By Agni, it's gotta be now or never.

When he turned to look at her, he could see tears beginning in his eyes. It took every ounce of his strength to look her into the eyes and not pull her into his arms. She deserved something from him, he knew, but not what he was going to say.

"Katara." That tone. It was the same one that Katara had used on Aang and what his mother had used on him that last night. Katara seemed to be thinking the same thing for her eyes instantly drowned in sadness. She furiously shook her head.

"Zuko, you can't be doing this. Not to us. Not to us. We were—we are—better than this. We were meant to last forever. Please, please don't continue."

"Katara." He let her name roll off of his tongue one last time in that way. His eyes fell shut, reveling in the last tones before continuing. "You know what I'm going to say next." His voice cracked, and he realized that he was also on the verge of tears. However, he would have to push forward and be strong for his people. "And I—I just can't-" He took a few shuddering breaths keeping—fighting—the tears away. Maybe he wasn't as strong as he'd thought.

"Zuko," she whispered breathlessly, taking his hand in hers. He opened his eyes and saw silver tears falling down her cheeks. "Tell me."

He almost broke out laughing—a demented laugh. How had he never realized that he was not the strong one?

"I—" He gulped, his throat suddenly tight and dry. "I have a duty to my country. Thousands of people out there rely on me. But—but—"

"Me?" she offered, cracking him a small, sad smile. Her hand squeezed a little tighter.

"No. You," he smiled a happier smile and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, then cupped her cheek and soaked himself in her eyes. "You and I have nothing with this." He placed his forehead on hers. It was heaven. "I love you, Katara." Her hand rested on his cheek. He retracted his own hand to hold her closer to his face. "But, I'm already married to something else. And, Katara I—I just—"

She placed a finger over his lips and silenced him. He could see the her world crumbling in her eyes, see it turning upside down. It was exactly how he was feeling. But, this needed to be done. He had—needed?—to do it.

"Please, Katara." He ripped his lips away from her finger. "Yell at me. Scream. Cry." He swiped a silent tear from her cheek. "Do something. Please. I can't stand to see you as silent as a stone when the war rages in your eyes." He just needed something. She was the one who had enough emotion for the both of them.

She said nothing, but placed a soft kiss on his lips. He could taste her tears.

Then, as they parted, "It'll be all right, Zuko." He could finally see the resigned look, the automatic comments, the natural comforting gestures. She wasn't even here anymore. "I understand."

"No," he whispered, serious as the matter at hand. "Katara. Come back." He shook her lightly, hoping that would pull her out. She couldn't drown in the blackness.

"I am here." He wasn't convinced.

"Katara, I need you. Please, bring her back." She continued to blankly stare at him. He tried everything—he slapped her, then tried to kiss her—but she seemed to fall farther.

Finally, he gave in. He collapsed next to her hollow shell and closed his eyes. She took that hint and left him alone.

Each of her steps was a pulse for his heart, each breath was one of his own. So when she left, he died. His heart stopped beating. Even the synched beats of his people's hearts could not kick start his.

He cried that day. It was not because of the breakup; he knew that his people needed him. No, it was because Katara was lost. Forever. And he could not be the one to fix her.

* * *

A/N: I seem to have a knack for depressing stories... Review?

I don't own Zuko or Katara. They are property of Bryan and Mike.


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